


Nights Grew Colder

by ecotone



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, The Dawning, background snowball wars, no angst! presents!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecotone/pseuds/ecotone
Summary: Wei loves this time of year.(Well, she doesn't, but Eriana more than makes up for the cold.)





	

The Tower is covered in lanterns. 

It’s beautiful, in Eriana’s opinion. Then again, she thinks, she’s always been partial to such Light. Fire is different from arc lightning, from the void. She’d be remiss to say it was purer- and, most likely, subject to some manner of punching- but she can’t help but feel like it’s _simpler_ , intrinsic. It’s silly, but to her, the lights shine as brightly as her Radiance does. 

“Your servos freeze?” Wei asks, teasing. Eriana half-shutters her pupils as she looks over, as close an approximation to annoyance as she can get. It doesn’t do much, though; Wei grins unapologetically as she looks down, strands of short dark hair loose around her face. 

“Just thinking.” It’s evening, and even the lanterns can’t block out the encroaching dusk. It’s peaceful, even if there’s what seems to be an ongoing snowball fight that has ravaged the entirety of the plaza. 

“When are you not? I swear, we’ll be in the middle of a firefight and you’ll be reading a book while you’re turning some Baron to ash.” 

“We’re not allowed to stop thinking. If we do, they take away our Warlock badge and make us be Titans.” Eriana’s jaw lights glow. Wei rolls her eyes, taking the teasing with the easy grace of someone who’s dealt with it for decades. There’s a line there, Eriana knows, between poking fun at and underestimating a Titan’s intelligence. She’s seen the scars on those who crossed it. 

“I hope you don’t stop thinking, then. If you do, your present won’t be very useful.” Wei tilts her head, her Ghost hovering lazily over her far shoulder. Even dressed down in warmer civilian clothes, she cuts an imposing figure. 

“You know, we always insist we don’t need presents,” Eriana says. “Everyone always says, ‘come back alive, that’s a present enough,’ or something just as cheesy. And we still always get each other things.” 

“Well,” Wei starts, shrugging, “coming back alive isn’t really a problem, not for any of us. I mean, it can be- it’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. But I’m not so worried about anyone that I’d bank my whole Dawning present on them living for me.” She reaches out, taps a gloved hand on the hard plates of Eriana’s arm. “Least of all you. Sunsingers can come back from the dead just fine.” 

“While I appreciate the trust,” Eriana says sweetly, “Omar said something similar last year. He didn’t get extra presents, and neither will you.” 

Wei swears, curses fading into laughter as Eriana laughs with her. At her, maybe, too, though that’s not even close to the worst thing that’s happened to her. Take away all her victories in battle, and this moment might be one of her best. 

(Even leaving in every successful mission she’s ever had, she thinks, this just about tops _that_ list, too.) 

“Even so, I meant it,” Wei says, oddly sincere. There’s something sincere about her always, Eriana figures, but in a different, brutally effective way. There’s nothing indirect about a blow to the skull. This, though, is _unguarded_ , a strange gift in and of itself. She dismisses it as a byproduct of the cold, steadfastly ignoring her processors moving the past few minutes into her long-term memory. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Eriana says, instead of _I know_ or _I’ve always known_ or _you know what, never mind, just stay alive for me - with me - forever._ “Trickery’s never been your strong suit. Besides, you didn’t want a new set of knives.” 

“Titans with _knives_ ,” Wei says disapprovingly, mouth twisting into a grimace. “What can a knife do that a fist can’t?”

“Cut things.” 

“You’re not trying hard enough.” 

Eriana sputters, lights flashing. “No,” she says, “you’re destroying every bone in your arm.” 

“Oh, I’m fine. Titan armor is thicker than yours, and I’m built to punch.” She wiggles her fingers as if to prove a point. “Punchiest hands this side of the solar system.” 

“Whatever you say,” Eriana says, shaking her head fondly. To her left, a hastily-formed snowball splatters against the railing. She sighs, looking down to check on the carnage. Below her, a couple of newly-born Guardians, still dressed in all-white field weave, cower behind a makeshift fort. By the looks of it, they’re under siege; Hunters who've been alive long enough to perfect their aim are tossing snowballs their way. Wei snickers, then looks around for any Vanguard. 

“You think I’ll get in trouble for giving them a hand?” She asks. 

“I don’t know what you’re about to do, but the answer is probably yes,” Eriana sighs, static coloring her voice. “You’re going to do it anyways, I’d assume?” 

“Watch.” Wei slips past her, climbing over the railing in one smooth movement. From there, she jumps off the balcony, one arm reaching up above the other. White-purple Light forms around her fists just as Eriana figures out what she’s doing. From there, she falls like a rock, even without her bulky armor; her arms fling out just as she hits the ground, legs bending until her knees are almost touching the ground. The two Guardians, both having obviously never seen a Ward before, look mystified. From across the way, Eriana hears laughter, catches a glimpse of Sai and Eris comparing the curvature of their throws to that of Omar and Pahanin. From just behind the gaggle of Hunters, another Ward of Dawn springs up. Eriana jumps down just as the fight begins in earnest. 

“Alright, you’ve done all you can,” she says, tugging Wei across the plaza. “Now they have a place to huddle. If they even realized that’s what you _do_.” 

“I told them,” Wei says, laughing. She reaches down and picks up some snow, which she packs and hurls across the plaza. It hits the Titan- Kabr, maybe, if Pahanin’s nearby- so hard that his Ward flickers. Eriana snorts as the young Guardians cheer. 

“Happy Dawning to them,” she says, slowing once they’re in the relative safety of the dorm halls. 

“Happy Dawning to you,” Wei says, still grinning. She reaches up, rubs at the back of her neck. “You think it’s a good time to trade? We can go to my room, if you want. It’s warmer, and there’s less chance of a snowball retaliation.” 

“Might as well.” Eriana tilts her head, outstretching her hand. Her Ghost appears, shell as crisp a white as the freshly fallen snow. She doesn’t mention her inability to feel temperature changes beyond simple quantitative data, or that the Hunters never bothered following their prey back through the halls of the inner Tower for fear of Zavala’s wrath. 

It’s a short walk, and Wei becomes visibly more comfortable once she shuts the door, color coming back into her cheeks. “I hate winter,” she says, taking her wool gloves off. “You'd think immortality would come with a built-in heater.”

“It does, if you're an Exo,” Eriana counters, settling down on the bunk. Her Ghost reappears, transmatting in a foot-high box, covered in the blue wrapping paper that becomes ubiquitous this time of year. “ _Or_ if your affinity is solar light.” 

Wei shivers. “Look at you, having both,” she says, mock-annoyed, “leaving the rest of us to freeze to death.”

“I'm starting to think I should've gotten you a scarf.” Eriana’s never been one to miss who she used to be, but she finds herself wondering what her own smile was like. It’d come in handy, in times like these. 

“Don't worry about it. Next week’s crochet course is scarves, I think.” Wei bends down, rooting through her closet. After a second, she stands triumphantly, holding a box of her own. “I made my gloves last week.”

“Tell me how it goes,” Eriana says, tapping idly on the bed sheets. It always surprises her, how such simple living spaces become so homely. It depends on who you’re talking to, she supposes; her own room is covered in books, loose sheets of paper and old lined notebooks filled with log entries and runes. Compared to Wei’s, it’s like night and day. 

“I will.” Wei opens the box, groans, closes it. “Hold on, that's the wrong one. Yours is somewhere, I swear.” She goes back to digging through the closet, resurfacing with a virtually identical present. She checks its contents, nodding approvingly. 

“That's the one. Here you go.” 

Eriana hands hers off, taking the smaller box. The paper opens easily, tearing in a neat line, no match for someone so surgical. The box is warm, oddly, like there’s a lit candle inside. Taking the lid off, she finds she wasn’t quite wrong. 

“Is it alright? I swear, I had to corner Pujari to get him to tell me how to find one of those.” 

_One of those_ is a Bond. A Sunsinger’s Bond, Eriana notes, lifting it carefully. The rune of the disciple patterns it, each one glowing faintly of orange and red. They’re not easy to find, even more so for someone outside of the Order. Whatever Wei said to Pujari, it was convincing. 

“It’s lovely,” Eriana says, “thank you. I guess my griping about my old Bond got back to you, somehow.” 

“Yep,” Wei says. “Can’t tell you how, though. Then all my secrets would be revealed.” She grins, looks down at the box in her lap. “My turn?” 

“Mhm.” Carefully, Eriana slips her old Bond off her arm- a simple one, blue and gray, that she’s worn for so long the fashion-inclined Hunters would be astonished- and sets it into the box. Her new one slides up her arm perfectly, snugly settling just where it should. She hums, satisfied. 

Wei quickly undoes the ribbon atop the box, lifting it up excitedly. She grins when she sees her prize, a pair of thick-plated, heavy gauntlets. The inscription, written across the back of the right glove: THE LAST AND SUREST ARGUMENT. 

“These are gonna _kill_ ,” she says reverently, eyes wide. She looks like someone who’s just seen the Traveler for the first time. “I can finally retire my old ones. Thanks for these.” 

“One more thing,” Eriana says, digging a small box out of one of her pockets. “I was talking to Osiris yesterday, and he told me the team that went down South looking for refugees found some old relics. I thought you’d like this one.” 

Wei accepts the box, takes off the lid. “'No extra presents,' huh? I guess flattery really does work.” 

“Very funny. I didn’t think it was big enough to keep until next year.” 

“Well, thanks for the bonus.” She picks up the relic inside, tests its weight. It’s rather unassuming- small, rectangular, carved from jade. 

“All the fireteam found was that it’s called a cong. They were made in Ancient China, apparently; whatever purpose they had was lost long before the Traveler ever arrived.” Eriana shrugs. “Still, I thought you’d like it.” 

Wei nods. “Thank you,” she says, looking down at the cong in her hands. “You know, old Chinese poets always said there was a jade rabbit on the moon. Its job was to pound the immortals’ medicine.” 

“Fitting,” Eriana says, curious. “Where did you hear about that? I figured Osiris would have told me of any further research I could do.” 

“Old memory, I think,” Wei replies, looking back up. “This is nice, though, honestly. I appreciate it.” 

“If you want to learn more about history, you know, you can always come read with me. There isn’t a no-Titans-allowed rule in the library.” Eriana laughs. “I don’t mind.” 

“That never ends well,” Wei grumbles. “I’ll leave all the scholarly stuff to you.” 

“And I’ll leave the punching to you.” She stands, joints whining weakly as they readjust. “I should get back to my own room, I think. I have cleanup duty near the Divide tomorrow morning.” 

Wei follows her to the door, grinning. “Need help down there? I’m sure I can lend a hand. Help out the cause.”

“The _cause_ is killing Dregs. Come along if you want, but don’t expect to have fun.” 

“With you nearby, there’s always fun to be had,” Wei says, knocking her hand against Eriana’s. “Company is the only present I ask for.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Eriana says fondly. “I’ll come and get you in the morning. Bright and early.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

(For someone so radiant? She’d wait a million years.)

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Wei Ning *canonically* [ would rather have a Sunsinger "at [her] side than any other,"](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/items/talk-to-ikora-17) which is. Something. 
> 
> Here's my dawning present to the dozen other people in this boat, haha. As always, thank you for reading! (:


End file.
